Mike's Motivation
by Dixie Dewdrop's Graceland
Summary: In a conversation with probie agent Mike Warren, Paul Briggs determines that what is not spoken often reveals more than what is spoken. Please refer to my profile page for the chronology of my Graceland stories.


Mike's Motivation

Paul Briggs leaned his forearms on his desk as he studied the file before him. It contained intel on a man suspected of kidnapping his ex-wife from Idaho and either imprisoning her or murdering her. Whatever the case, no one had seen the wife for quite some time. The man, Sergio Villanueva, adamantly denied any part in his wife's disappearance.

Paul had tackled the file meticulously, yet could find little within it to warrant actually convicting the guy.

After two hours of nothing discernible or tangible he needed a break.

As if on cue, Mike Warren supplied an interruption, rapping upon the doorframe to grab Paul's attention.

"Mikey, Mike," Briggs greeted. "You can list perfect timing as one of the many attributes you have brought over from the East Coast."

"Going through cases?" Mike tilted his head to indicate the file on the desk. "Studying some leads?"

"It's more than that. Honestly, I am just trudging through the file. I want to get a handle on the case but need to find a niche to grab hold." Paul pointed towards the armchair. "Take a seat."

Moving self-consciously, Mike spoke offered, "I can come back if you want."

Paul smiled and turned his chair away from the file and towards Mike. "Nope, I want you here talking with me. What's up with you, kid?"

Mike perched on the very edge of the cushion, but slowly slid back to the middle of the chair. Then sitting ramrod straight he raked a hand through his dark blond hair, making it stick up in tufts right by the part. Even then, however, his boyish good looks remained, and he focused on Briggs with steely blue eyes. He licked his lips self consciously. "Well, uhm, now I have been in California, here at Graceland I mean, for over a month."

Briggs pretended surprise. "Already? Are you sure?"

"Right," Mike shook his head in confirmation, then appeared at a loss as to how to proceed.

Paul raised his eyebrows and waited nearly a full minute before he prodded, "Agent Warren, whatever you would like to say is important enough to motivate you to interrupt my work, so just tell me what's on your mind.

"Sorry," Mike replied immediately. "I wanted to ask when you would clear me to take on some real FBI work. All I've done since I arrived is desk work, and I think I've expressed before how much I want to act like a real agent- in a real agent capacity, like Johnny."

Briggs frowned. "Your motivation is to join Johnny?"

"No- I mean yes, in a way. To be honest, Briggs, you treat me like a little kid, and because you're the agent in charge of everyone at Graceland, the others follow suit."

Briggs folded his arms across his chest. "Follow suit how, Agent Warren?"

"No one consults me about what they're doing and I don't even get an invitation to join them. To tell you the truth, the only time I get to tag along happens if someone drives to the Bureau and I ask for a ride."

Briggs waited.

Mike rubbed his hands across his thighs and added, his voice rising defensively, "As my training officer you knew my background from Quantico and you saw my class ranking. And everyone knows good and well that I would not live at Graceland now had you not personally vetted me."

He licked his lips and glanced up to see how receptive Briggs had been.

"Is that all? Do you want to add anything?" In contrast, Briggs lowered his voice, and had Mike actually spent more time with him he would have recognized the implied warning.

It eluded him.

"Just that you can't keep excluding me and not making me a real part of Graceland." Once the last words popped out of his mouth Mike thought better of them and backtracked. "Not that you control all of that because the others just already hang out with each other."

Paul closed his eyes and willed himself to maintain calm. He needed to respond to Mike from a place of calm rationality.

"Mike…" he started.

"I just need you to be fair," Mike interrupted, his voice more than just a tad petulant and cross.

Reining in a sudden influx of temper, Paul directed firmly, "Agent Warren, do not interrupt me again. Capiche?"

Uncomfortably suspicious that he had mis-stepped, Mike nodded but stayed silent.

"Now I appreciate your coming to me," Paul began. "Really, I do, man, and that door is always open for you as your supervisor and as a friend."

Seasoned brown eyes met immature blue ones.

Paul steepled his hands. "However, as you pointed out earlier, your entire tenure spans one month post graduation, one month in California. Now in this one month I personally have routed three separate cases past your desk with the intent of providing you chances to hone those investigative skills and to assess your street smarts."

Mike held his hand out palm up to signal that was the crux of the perceived problem. Still, he wisely restrained himself from interrupting again.

Briggs acknowledged him with a nod, then stood up and stretched. "Maybe it's good that we're having this conversation now. As it so happens, I have noted gains in one area but deficits in another. The street smarts part is something crucial to surviving as an agent- for any of us from DEA to ICE. Failing to blend into the roles demanded of agents on the street is the kiss of death figuratively for any hope of a lifetime career, and disturbingly literal in tragedies that play out every day around the world."

Paul settled against his desk and pursed his lips. "All the academic preparation has given you a great foundation, but it constitutes one segment of the requirements for a position as an agent here. What differences did you find from that first file I gave you to the second and then to the third?"

Mike looked confused.

"The response should have followed instantly, Mike. Think about it."

Mike searched his memory. "That middle file documented a guy with ties to Asia."

"Right, so answer the original question," Paul instructed.

Struggling to do as asked, Mike began to panic. Finally he stammered, "I'm not sure."

"Let me help you," Paul offered. "The guy with the ties to Asia, where did the parents live?"

"I don't know, but I did focus on the important part which was he is a suspect in art thefts in Hong Kong and the United States."

"That's not the important part, it's an important part," Paul corrected. "Now you have appealed to me as your training officer and the house manager to award you more responsibility in the field. So show me that you picked up on the contrasts among those three files."

Mike sank back against the seat back and mumbled, "I don't know."

Paul took his chair and moved it to a position opposite Mike. He patted the younger man's shoulder before sitting down. "Mike, I handed you three different files which detailed cases by suspects from three different ethnic groups found right here in this city. All three contained enough documentation to come to the conclusion that the three remained loyal to their cultures. Therefore, a potential and very probable way to progress with them obviously falls within the realm of blending in with their cultural groups. To do that, you have to understand and appreciate what makes each culture a culture."

Mike countered defensively, "Well, why didn't you tell me to do that then?"

"Nope," Briggs contradicted, "you failed to collate information given to you to study in the safety of Graceland. It doesn't mean you'll never make it in the Bureau, but it should spell out to you that you are still very much a newbie, a probie in this. Understand?"

Briggs was right. Mike nodded.

"Until I can send you out the door with no reservations about your return, I won't permit the chance. What I will promise you is that once I feel good about your work here, you will be allowed to shadow ops until you can fully participate."

"Ok."

"Now, regarding your statements about fairness, you have not lived here long enough to make that judgment. If you ask Johnny, he's still pouting over an op I benched him on this spring. Charlie's the same. I make that call when I need to make that call irregardless of the agent's reaction. Believe me, Jakes and Paige have unraveled more than once. Point is, though, that as the leader my job is to protect my agents, no matter how angry they get or how unappreciative their feedback."

Mike looked sheepish. "I get it."

Paul laughed, "Oh you do, do you? That warms my soul." He stood up and moved his chair back to the desk. "Feel better?"

"Worse, actually," Mike ruefully acknowledged. "Can we start over and forget the insubordination?"

"Already done, and I meant what I said about an open door, Agent Mike Warren."

Mike stood also. "Thanks, Briggs."

"Uhm hmm," Briggs responded, already reaching for the file.

Paul waited until Mike's footsteps disappeared before he set the file aside to reflect over their conversation and parse the underlying motive to the younger man's visit.

Standing, he pushed the folder to the side to head down the hall to Paige's room.

Door open, she lay across the bed reading a magazine.

Briggs couldn't stifle a smile at Paige's resemblance to a teenager just home from high school.

She grinned when she saw him.

"Need to talk to you," he explained, then pointed. "My room."

Paige scrambled off the bed, making the corner of the comforter slide to the floor. "Am I in trouble?"

Moving back in to the hall Paul leaned over the banister and twisted to secure a view of the living room. "Hey, John Boy!" he called.

Johnny's head swung in his direction.

"Up here, Man," Briggs ordered.

Johnny responded suspiciously, "What did I do?" He unfolded himself from the sofa and jogged to the stars.

Once together Briggs ushered them into his room before closing the door for privacy.

"Paige did it," Johnny announced.

"Did what?" Briggs questioned.

Paige defended herself with a scowl. "I did not!"

"Whatever the trouble is," Johnny elaborated.

"That's not right," Paige insisted, "I've been home all afternoon."

Briggs took a deep breath, oddly used to this type of response. If he didn't shut them down in a hurry a full fledged argument would follow.

"Sit down and be quiet," he ordered, pointing towards the bed.

Johnny flung himself onto the comforter to mutter, "Really, what makes you so rude all of a sudden?"

"I thought I told you to get quiet."

Johnny did then, and Briggs waited for Paige to get comfortable. "Look you two, I never said you were in trouble. Actually I called you together because I wanted to chat about Mike."

Paige examined her fingernails. "Why?"

"Well," Paul revealed, "he's brand spanking new to the house and brand spanking new to the field and he needs to feel he belongs."

Johnny crossed his arms behind his head and then fell back onto the bed, making the mattress jump. He regarded Briggs shrewdly. "How does Mike's acceptance apply to Paige and me?"

"Glad you asked," Briggs spoke cheerfully, "It occurred to me that Mike might still feel a little shy or out of place here but then I realized that the two of you could really help by including him in more extra-curricular activities."

Paige glanced at Johnny and each nodded. "No," she answered flatly.

That bewildered Briggs. "No? What do you mean no?"

"Mikey can't even surf." Johnny pointed out.

Paige added, "and he doesn't like movies."

Johnny nodded vigorously, "He won't try to eat like the locals, like go with us to Hector's. He says he doesn't know what's in the food."

"Mike's suspicious," Paige affirmed, scooting back and crossing her legs to sit Indian style. "And he's a know-it-all, really arrogant."

"Paranoid," Johnny agreed.

Paige's brow furrowed. "He irons his blue jeans when I told him…."

"Stop!" Paul interrupted. "I get your point, but we need to cut him some slack. The East Coast is polar opposite the West Coast. Let's give him time, and he'll begin to experiment a bit more with our lifestyle here. Meanwhile, though, I want you to treat him like a valued guest. Invite him to join you when you head out for a hot dog. Ask him to ride bikes. Introduce him to some of the activities around the area. Help him belong."

"Do we have to spend time with him?" Johnny whined.

Paige echoed, "Why do we have to include him?"

Out of patience Paul snapped, "Yes and yes, and make sure you start today. For the next few days when I see you leave Graceland for some relaxation, Mike had better be right there with you."

Paige sighed dramatically.

Johnny rolled his eyes.

"You positive you meant to give me that response?" Paul's voice hardened and he narrowed his eyes.

They exchanged worried glances.

"No, no skip that. We feel you," Johnny apologized, sliding off the bed. Paige held up her arms and he yanked her upright.

She patted Briggs on the arm. "Paul," she spoke for both of them. "You're right, and we are guilty of avoiding him. We'll do better."

"Thank you," Briggs answered with relief. "I appreciate it, and I think if you make another attempt to get to know the kid, you'll end up liking him."

Johnny spoke, "We dismissed?"

"Absolutely," Briggs smiled.

Their shoulders touched as they left and he viewed the closeness as a good sign. They would work on Mike together.

Briggs closed his eyes. Mike's motivation in approaching him really boiled down to that fundamental longing to belong.

Problem solved.


End file.
